i want to hold your hand, even if it's covered in blood
by Kuro49
Summary: Serial killer!AU. Herc/Chuck. What they do, it's simple. It's murder.


A sort of fill for the kinkmeme prompt: Herc/Chuck, serial killer AU. _I have no idea if it's even possible to do this in a remotely in character way (unless they only kill bad guys and consider themselves some sort of vigilantes?), but I'd still love to see it. For the guns and the knives and the crazy codependency and the us-against-the-world mentality and the fucking while covered in blood?_

Um, yeah. I apologize, I am working through a bit of a writer's block so this is nothing like the prompt aside from some minor serial killing. Argh, writing is hard, I have written five lines for maybe half a dozen kinkmeme fills. D:

XXX

**i want to hold your hand, even if it's covered in blood**

XXX

What they do, it's simple.

It's murder.

Not in cold blood, per se. Not when the red is lukewarm in his hands. And he loves him like this. Looking at him with his eyes half-lidded, easy grin over bitten lips, his blue eyes dilated in the dark like they are back in the centre of their too big bed in that empty, barren apartment of theirs. Instead, they are off on another job, at another scene where the blood has soaked through the thick, plush carpet to the floorboards underneath.

Hercules guts them like pigs. His blade a familiar weight in the middle of his palm, his grip loose and his strength the strongest then when he cuts through skin and flesh, spilling blood and pain and a guttural scream from the man beneath his careful hands.

It's bloodlust. And it's not enough.

Chuck's grin curls into something feral and gorgeous at the sight of all that red. He sidles up to his dad, presses a palm to the curve of Herc's hips in a touch that is all need and warmth. Herc turns to him without saying a word, leans into that hand curled protectively around him on contact. And that simple touch is enough to make him pull the edge of his knife back another inch.

The man tied up in the chair slumps over from the shock.

He is not a good man, and his breathing seems all the louder when he pulls in each breath with wet gasps that is all terror. He is not a good man, but neither are they.

Chuck presses closer to smear the splatter of blood with his lips. Leans in closer with his mouth over the curve of Herc's jaw and says. "Let me do it, daddy."

The last word is said like a love confession, just not in as many words. And that suits them just fine.

Herc cuts the ropes in one fluid motion before Chuck steps up with his trigger-happy fingers just aching to shoot. His gun is all smooth black metal and constant weight in his hands.

The first time Hercules Hansen kills a man, he does it for his country. After that, he quickly loses count. Herc doesn't know how they end up like this, but it really isn't so bad when he can have his baby boy like this. (They fucked once, next to a man choking on his own blood. The hotel room was lit up, florescent lights casting a white, bright glow around them as their fingertips dug bruises beneath the skin. He kissed him with an opened mouth, sinking in, bottoming out, the burn and stretch and the feeling of being wanted, needed and filled so completely.)

This reminds him of that.

The man that slumps to the ground lands on his knees when Chuck tips the chair with a kick. The violence wrenches another scream when the gut wound just continues to bleed profusely. Herc cleans the red from his blade with the white sheets on the bed, the motion he makes with each twist of his wrist is meticulous and controlled, and Chuck rests the barrel of his gun just over the back of the man's head.

They don't wait for the pleading to fill the room.

They have never cared enough. This is an execution, murder in its simplest form. Neither of them are artists, and this isn't their art. The answering shot that he fires is explosive, the splatter making the perfect Rorschach patterns across the walls. It's an overkill, that much is clear when the bloodstain continues to spread beneath their feet.

They don't smile, something soft and tender that speaks of love, but it's in their eyes when they look at each other like that.

Even with the air a stench of copper that fills their lungs, he loves him just like this.

XXX Kuro


End file.
